


Sparks Fly

by winterwaters



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bartender Bellamy, Drunkenness, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Happy Ending, One Night Stand, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, all these songs make me feel things, cursing, if that matters, pwp honestly, with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 11:57:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3609273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwaters/pseuds/winterwaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU: Clarke gets dragged to a new bar by Raven, who insists she needs a fun night out. It’s the bartender who ends up grabbing her attention, though. Both figuratively, and later, literally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sparks Fly

**Author's Note:**

> So apparently, Taylor Swift songs + Bellarke = my downfall.

“Come on,” Clarke groaned as Raven dragged her down the street. “Can’t we just call it a night already? It’s packed everywhere.”

“Absolutely not. I refuse to believe there is not one place in this city that we can’t sit and drink without wanting to kill someone.” Her friend continued charging down the sidewalk, and since her arm was looped through Clarke’s, she had no choice but to follow.

“Ravennnn,” Clarke whined. “I’m having brunch with Octavia tomorrow, remember? She wants to introduce me to her brother now that I’ve been accepted to the teaching program and am officially staying.”

“Remind me why she waited so long?” Her friend barely waited for the light to turn yellow before crossing the street.

“He was across the country teaching at a small liberal arts college before he got offered a job here, close to her. So now he’s back and settled in, and she’s decided we _have_ to meet.” She leveled a glare at the back of her friend’s head. “And I’d like to not be hungover for it.”

“You’re a tank, you’ll be just fine,” Raven responded, unconcerned. “In fact you’ll probably be there earlier and more sober than both of them. What's his name again?”

"I have no clue. She's always calling him B or dumbass or nerd, or some variation of the three when they're on the phone." Which was nearly once a day, because Octavia and her brother were incredibly close, and despite the nicknames (which he returned with equal creativity), it was honestly the sweetest thing in the world. Not that Clarke would ever say so out loud. Even though she'd only known the girl for a few months - having met during their senior prank, of all places - she liked to think she knew Octavia well enough that she wouldn't appreciate someone pointing out just how endearing she and her brother were. Even if it was true.

Raven finally stopped her hasty strides, her eyes flitting from sign to sign. Clarke could practically see the wheels turning in her head as she peeked into various windows and debated the pros and cons. She took advantage of the pause to stretch her legs. Thankfully, she’d chosen to wear her favorite pair of black strappy sandals, knowing from experience that the low heel and comfort were necessary for a night out with Raven. But as a cool breeze rushed over her bare legs, she yanked at the hem of her pleated black skirt for the umpteenth time. 

“I should have worn jeans,” she muttered to herself.

“Stop complaining. You look hot. Aha!” Raven shouted triumphantly and began dragging her along again. “In here.”

Clarke was shoved inside what looked like a hole-in-the-wall before she could even read the name atop the door. As she shoved hair from her eyes, though, she found herself pleasantly surprised. The place was wide and open, lit by small lamps on each table and the occasional bulb that hung from the high ceilings. It was still dark, but not creepily so. Almost… romantic. 

Raven took in the expression on her face and grinned smugly. “Told ya I’d find a spot.”

“I’ll say,” she breathed. Clarke’s gaze wandered around, noting the place was pretty busy, as expected for a Saturday night, but not unbearably so. Unwittingly, she latched onto a head of curly dark hair behind the bar. When the person in question turned around, she found a a tanned, sharply angled face staring back. His eyes were nearly as dark as his hair and freckles dotted his cheeks. The grey shirt clung to his wide shoulders, short sleeves giving way to clearly muscled arms. And she was pretty sure that if she managed to peek underneath said shirt, she’d find a body carved from stone. _Wow,_ she thought stupidly.

When Raven’s elbow connected with her ribs, she jumped and glared. “What was that for?”

“You’re gonna have to get closer than that to fuck him,” Raven replied.

Clarke squeaked and shoved her, glancing around to make sure no one had overheard. “Are you crazy? I don’t want to… _do_ anything of the sort.”

“Then stop making heart eyes at him from across the room.” 

“I am not,” she grumbled.

“Are too. If it helps at all, he’s making them right back.”

Clarke peeked up despite herself, eyes flicking to the bar again. The guy was busy taking a drink order, but when he turned around their eyes met and she hurriedly looked away. Cheeks burning, she grabbed Raven’s arm.

“We should go somewhere else,” she said weakly, but Raven dug in her heels.

“Oh hell no. We are _not_ leaving for a long time.” Her friend pulled her to the bar, where they hopped up on two stools near the corner. Raven waved her arm, and Clarke’s heart thrashed wildly when, of the two who were working, the dark-haired guy came over.

“Hello ladies,” he said pleasantly. His voice was a deep baritone that sent all sorts of things fluttering in her stomach. “What are you drinking tonight?”

“Any good beers on tap? Oh, wait, just saw the sign, sorry. I’ll try the _love_ stout.” Clarke resisted the urge to groan when her friend arched an eyebrow. “She’ll have a rum and coke.”

The bartender nodded and moved away, but not before Clarke caught the glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“You suck,” she mumbled to Raven, who shrugged.

“And _you_ need to get drunk and have some fun.” 

“My idea of having fun involves a tub of ice cream and my bed.”

Raven’s eyebrows wiggled suggestively. “So does mine.”

Clarke gasped and shoved her just as their bartender returned, drinks in hand. She handed over her card before Raven could even reach for her bag. “Start a tab?” He asked.

 _Oh, god yes._ “Yeah, please,” she squeaked out. Raven gave her The Look, as it had so been named after enough nights out, but Clarke narrowed her eyes. “Don’t.”

“Come on, Clarke. Shit sucks. _He_ sucks. But you gotta get out of your comfort zone now and then or you’ll never move on.”

She looked away from Raven only to find another pair of dark eyes hurriedly shift downwards. It wasn’t a stretch to think he’d heard; Raven was loud enough. And she didn’t even know why it mattered at this point. Why should she care who knew?

“You’re right,” she said finally. “ _So,_ how about you go say hi to the guy across the room who’s been staring at you since we walked in?”

“Hmm?” Raven looked over, eyebrows raised curiously. “Damn. He’s pretty. Which means he’s probably dumb or a jerk. Or taken.”

“Hey hey hey, now. What was all that about trying new things?” Clarke nudged her. “Come onnn, you know you want toooooo,” she sang.

Raven grumbled under her breath, but moments later she was easing off the stool, beer in hand as she made her way over. Clarke smiled to herself and took a long sip of her own drink, closing her eyes when the sweet liquid rushed down her throat. Yeah, this would get a buzz going quickly enough. That, and the way Mr. Bartender was overwhelming her senses.

Speaking of… she opened her eyes. He was just a few feet away, sliding a drink over the counter to one customer and the check to another. With a nod of thanks, he accepted the closed tab and turned, raking a hand through his hair. She grinned when he let out a huge yawn. 

“Long day?” She asked, surprising them both.

His arm remained bent, hand resting on his neck a moment longer. “Something like that,” he finally said. “I moved back here recently, so between work and everything, it’s just been a lot.” 

“Understandable. Where’d you come from?” She blushed the second it was out, not having meant for it to sound like such a breathless thing. “I mean, where did you move from?”

He looked like he wanted to smile. “West Coast. I moved out there for a job, and now I’m back.” After a pause, he asked, “What do you do?”

“I actually just got accepted into a grad program. I want to teach art, hopefully at one of the local schools.”

“Wow. That’s awesome.”

“Yeah. It’s the best,” Clarke said fondly. “My dad was the artist. I’m just trying to do right by him.”

He nodded, but unlike most people didn’t fixate on the past tense. “I’m sure you’ll be great,” he said. She smiled in silent thanks, and for a couple minutes they were both quiet.

“So,” he asked eventually. “Did your friend abandon you or what?”

“Nah, I made her go.” She nodded to where Raven was currently sitting next to the blonde man. “It was obvious she wanted to, and I didn’t want to hold her back.”

“Why would you be holding her back?” 

“Uh…” Clarke took a few sips of her drink before answering. “I guess, I’m just not ready to get back out there. My last relationship didn’t end so well. He… uh…” Damn, why was it always so hard to say? 

“He cheated,” he said matter-of-factly.

She blinked, her mouth opening to give the usual excuse, the explanation on the tip of her tongue- “Yeah,” is what came out instead. “Yes. He did.”

“Asshole.”

She looked up in surprise from where she was scratching her nail into the wood. His eyes held sympathy, possibly even flashed in anger, and maybe she imagined it when his jaw tightened too - but that was it. Nothing else. 

Relieved, she suddenly felt lighter than she had all night. She propped a hand on her chin. “Get a lot of jilted women in here, do you?”

A corner of his mouth flickered. “I wouldnt say ‘a lot.’ But enough to know there’s still too many dipshits walking around out there.” The steel in his voice made her raise her eyebrows. After a second, he admitted, “I have a little sister.”

Ah. Now he made much more sense. Another small puzzle piece slid into place in her mind, slowly adding to the picture that had been forming ever since she walked in the door.

“I bet she worships you,” Clarke said, but he shook his head ruefully.

“More like the other way around.”

Delighted, she grinned. “I’d drink to that, but my cup is empty.”

“Allow me,” he said generously, and refilled her glass, sliding it over with ease. Picking up his own beer from under the counter, he held it out, and they clinked glasses together before taking a large gulp.

Clarke eyed him carefully. “So. You seem to have a lot of experience with… dipshits.”

He snorted. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

“Not at all,” she laughed. “It’s obvious you’re not one of them.”

“Is it?” His head tilted curiously, dark eyes piercing. She forced her eyes to stay up as she took another drink - liquid courage, right? 

“It is to me,” she said finally. 

That got her a true smile, this beautiful thing that curved his mouth crookedly and crinkled his eyes, and though it was fleeting she thought it might’ve been the best few seconds of her life.

“Can’t say I’m not glad to hear that,” he answered. “But I used to be.” At her look, he added, “Not a cheater. Never. Just…”

“A player.”

“You could call it that,” he murmured, rubbing his neck. He was almost sheepish, and it was so endearing that Clarke had to smile to herself.

“So what changed?” She asked.

He shrugged. “Had to grow up.” An undercurrent of sadness laced his voice, and though he was focused on cleaning the bar and not looking at her, Clarke found herself reaching out to place her hand over his for a moment. His eyes snapped to hers, cautious. 

“Growing up sucks,” she said, not bothering to hide the slight tremor like she usually would. 

He nodded slowly, in mutual understanding of a shared grief. 

A glass shattered nearby, startling them both. He sighed and tossed her an irritated look before heading over to deal with the problem. Her hand clenched into a fist where it was laying overtop his just seconds before, itching to do even more than that.

By the time he returned, they’d both shoved the seriousness down deep. Clarke leaned closer. “So, I think it’s pretty unfair that you know so much about me and I don’t even know your name.”

A grin curled his mouth and he held out a hand. “Bellamy.”

 _Bellamy._ Yeah, she could hear herself saying that in far too many different scenarios. _Get out of my head, Reyes._ She placed her hand in his, trying not to shiver at the tingle that ran up her arm when his fingers wrapped securely around hers. “I’m Clarke.”

“Nice to meet you.” He held on longer than necessary, his grip warm and comforting, and she was distracted studying the dusky tone of his skin, such a contrast to her own paleness. It got her thinking about light and shadows and the scratch of charcoal on canvas…

When Bellamy cleared his throat, Clarke looked up, startled. “Unfortunately I need my hand back,” he said with a smile. She pulled back immediately, her face aflame.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, staring into her drink. Surrounded by her curtain of hair, she didn’t notice when he slid around the counter, drinks in hand, and paused right next to her. 

His breath warming her ear, he said, “Don’t be.”

Clarke barely contained her sigh as he strode to one of the tables. The low rumble of his voice had sent a current of heat all the way to her tiptoes. She sipped her drink again and tried to suppress her slight shiver. What was she even doing? This was so unlike her.

Maybe that was the point. Maybe stepping outside of her neatly defined box was exactly what she needed.

“Claaaaarke,” Raven hopped onto the stool next to her, swaying heavily and pulling her from her thoughts. “You two are going to burn the place down. Get it? Because there are so many _sparks!_ ” She giggled, then burped.

Clarke’s eyebrows shot up. “Good one,” she said dryly. “Having some fun of your own with that hot blonde, are you?”

“He’s a teacher, can you believe it? Chemistry, of all things,” Raven whispered, or tried to, but really just shouted. “What is it with all of you being teachers?”

“Not everyone can be a brilliant, awesome engineer like yourself.”

“You forgot _smoking hot._ ”

Clarke took a sip to hide her smile. “Thought I’d leave it to Professor Chemistry to tell you that.” 

“How kind you are. But-” Raven got distracted as soon as Bellamy walked back into her line of sight. “Hi there!” She called cheerily.

His mouth twitched. “Hello. Need a refill?”

“Oh. Well, that too. But I was going to say, thanks for looking after Clarke here,” Raven swung a carefree arm around her shoulders. “She’s the best, and she’s smart and hot and deserves a really good f-”

Clarke clapped a hand over her friend’s mouth just in time. “Okay, I think you’re cut off.” She sent an apologetic look at Bellamy, whose features were carefully schooled into a blank look. But it was the crinkle of his eyes that gave him away.

“Noooo,” Raven’s reply was muffled into Clarke’s palm. “Mobhyy and Jasthpe-” She managed to pry her hand off. “Monty and Jasper just called! They want us to come meet them at Smokey’s.”

“Uhhh…” she hesitated, glancing at Bellamy, who was deliberately wiping an already clean glass. “You go,” she said abruptly. “I’m going to hang around for a bit.” Raven’s jaw dropped in delight, but before she could speak, Clarke added, “You should take the blonde, though. He hasn’t stopped smiling all night.”

Her friend chewed her lip in thought, a hint of nervousness showing through her usually confident features. 

“She’s right, you know.” They both turned to Bellamy in surprise. He rested his elbows on the counter. “He would have left already if he didn’t like you. Wick’s not one to play games. And… he’s one of the good ones.” His eyes slid to Clarke. “Not a hint of dipshit in sight.” 

She beamed and turned to Raven. “See? Even Bellamy vouches for him. I say go for it.”

Of course, Raven latched on to a single part of her sentence. “ _Bellamy,_ huh? So you two are on a first-name basis already?”

Clarke blushed again, absently tracing the rim of her glass. Then Bellamy said, “We are. Maybe you and Wick want to do the same?” She laughed, looking up to see the gleam of mischief in his eyes. As if that wasn’t enough, he added pointedly, “Wick isn’t his first name,” and strolled away to take another drink order.

Raven stared. The challenge was out there, and Clarke knew she just couldn’t resist. “Damn,” she said after a moment. Poking Clarke, she said, “You better have a good story for me tomorrow.”

“Right back at ya.”

She squeezed her in a tight hug, grinning as she watched her friend try not to skip away. It wasn’t long before Bellamy was standing in front of her again as she took another sip of her drink.

“So, she’s going?” he asked.

“Mhmm.”

“And you are…”

Clarke drained the rest of her glass. “Staying,” she said, watching his eyes light up. The fact that he didn’t bother to hide his reaction made her feel a little more bold. Then he noticed her empty cup and wasted no time refilling it. Her laugh came out jittery. “Wow. I didn’t even have to ask.”

“Oh, did you not-”

“No,” she reached out hurriedly and plucked the cup from his hand. “I want it.”

He grinned. “Good. I’m guessing it’s your favorite drink?”

“When I’m not in a beer mood, yes.” _Or when I’d like to get happy drunk a little faster so that I can maybe bite that indent in your chin…_ “What’s your drink of choice?”

“Usually I’ll just go straight for the whiskey. Maybe a good stout now and then, if I can find it.”

“I love stouts!” She exclaimed happily. “I’m on a mission to try all the coffee stouts in town.”

“Really?” Bellamy chuckled. “I have to admit, that sounds like a pretty worthwhile goal.”

“Thanks. I thought so.” Clarke swayed a little on her stool, content with the buzz that was beginning to take hold. If he noticed, he didn’t comment. But his eyes lingered without pretense, and she found herself staring back.

“You know,” she heard herself say, “you should join me some time. Seeing as you clearly have good taste in drinks and all.”

A lopsided grin split his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said definitively, warm all over just from the happiness that radiated from his smile. 

“Alright. Sounds like fun.”

“It is,” she declared, and yeah, she was definitely getting tipsy, “because _I’m_ fun.” When he laughed, she crossed her arms, defiant. “What? I am!”

“I bet you are, Clarke.”

_Oh, please say my name again._

She was saved from uttering that silly thought by her phone buzzing on the counter. She grinned when she read Raven’s text. “Looks like it didn’t take long to find out Wick’s first name after all,” she said.

Bellamy’s eyebrows shot up. “Well. Shit. That’s impressive.”

“That’s Raven. Always the go-getter.” Clarke smiled wistfully, tapping out a quick reply. When she looked back up, Bellamy’s brow was furrowed in thought. Not wanting to interrupt, she turned her attention back to her drink.

Then his hand closed over her wrist on the counter and she sucked in a breath. His fingers drew a soft pattern on her skin, making her pulse flail underneath. “Look,” he began tentatively, “I know you said you're not ready, and it’s probably not even my place, but… I just want you to know something.” She looked up to meet his steady gaze. “Don't be scared to try again. There are a lot of crappy people out there, but there are also some good ones. And I know it's hard to always believe that - trust me. But I wouldn't be saying so if I didn't think it was true."

Clarke swallowed the tightness in her throat and nodded, offering a small smile.

Bellamy returned it, softly adding, "You should go after what you want, Clarke. We only get one life.”

It was good advice, she had to admit. And watching him move around behind the bar, her mind and body came to a single conclusion as to exactly what she wanted. 

~~~~~~~

Hours later, the bar had emptied and closed for the night. She found herself trapped between Bellamy and the wall, brick at her back and his warm body pressed flush against her front. A firm hand cradled her cheek as his lips descended, hot and hungry. He feasted on her mouth like a dying man, and she marveled at the realization that she’d been driving him equally as crazy all night long.

He tasted sweet and bitter all at once, and Clarke idly thought if it were possible to get drunk on another person, she’d choose him. Every damn time.

They paused to breathe only for a few seconds before coming back together, this time decidedly less urgent. His mouth glided over hers in a caress that made her want to melt. _Of course he’s an amazing kisser,_ she thought.

“Thank you,” Bellamy whispered, laughter in his voice, and her eyes flew open as she realized she’d unintentionally spoken the words. “Though,” he said between a series of softer kisses, “I think you should take some credit.”

“Mmm,” was all Clarke got out, too busy trying to pull him as close as possible. Her hands slid up from his chest to wind into his hair, raking her nails along his scalp as she pushed to her tiptoes. An agreeable groan sounded from his mouth directly into hers. When they parted, Bellamy took her bottom lip between his teeth, sucking relentlessly until a needy whimper escaped her. Mouth curved in a satisfied smirk, he shifted his attention to her jaw and down her throat. His hair tickled when he bent lower to nibble at her earlobe.

“I- I don’t usually do this. Ever,” she gasped. 

He looked up, amused. “I figured. For the record, neither have I, princess.”

“Princess?” She wrinkled her nose. 

Bellamy shrugged and kissed the corner of her mouth. “Felt appropriate.” An eyebrow arched. “You don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that,” she replied. “Just trying to figure out if it’s a compliment or not.”

He grinned infuriatingly. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Clarke’s mouth dropped open in (mostly) mock outrage and she leaned forward to silence his laugh with another heated kiss, her nails biting into his shoulders. Hooking a leg around his hip, she rubbed purposely against the prominent bulge in his jeans. “Fuck,” he moaned and grabbed her waist so hard she thought his fingerprints might still be there in the morning. The thought made her rock her hips harder, grinning when he swore again, this time into the crook of her neck.

Bellamy gave her a biting kiss, his hand drifting under her skirt and making her breath catch. His fingers stroked slowly up her thighs, the ache in her center reaching nearly unbearable heights at his torturous pace. His tongue thrusted into her mouth just as lazily. By the time he finally reached the waistband of her underwear, her legs were trembling, and only his weight pinning her to the wall kept her upright.

Just the light touch of his fingers over the damp material made her head smack back into the brick. _”Bellamy.”_

“Shit,” he muttered, mouth pausing over her pulse. “Clarke, you’re so wet.”

“Thank you Captain Obvious,” she ground out, hips needily pushing against his fingers. “Are you going to do something about it or not?”

Bellamy chuckled lowly against her ear, only increasing the pressure minutely. “Definitely my kind of princess,” he said, and she thought she might combust on the spot with the way her skin overheated. Then he was tugging her underwear down her legs, and she kicked it aside, uncaring of where it landed. His fingers returned to her heat and she moaned loudly when he slipped two inside her with ease.

“ _Oh,_ ” she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, head dropping back as her hips began to move against his fingers. Bellamy slid his other hand behind her, cradling her head and forcing her to look at him. His lips were parted, color high in his cheeks as he watched her with blown pupils, almost like he was just as desperate for her to come as she was. The thought made her grind down on his hand. “Bellamy,” she whined, his name falling from her lips again and again when he gripped her hair a little tighter, thrusted a little harder as each syllable increased in pitch. The need built sharply, and she was so close, right there--

Bellamy leaned down, his thumb finding her clit. “Come on, princess,” he whispered roughly. “Come for me.”

She keened, clinging to him as her back arched, muscles spasming around his fingers as the release took over, rushing through her limbs. When she opened her eyes next, her forehead was on his shoulder, arms wrapped loosely around him. His hands trailed up and down her back in long strokes.

Taking an unsteady breath, she pushed back to lean against the wall, staring up at him. Bellamy smiled, placing a surprisingly gentle kiss on her mouth. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured.

Not knowing what to do with the awe in his voice, Clarke stretched up to kiss him again, still wedged between him and the wall, utterly content. They did nothing but kiss for a few minutes, until her mouth decided to wander down to his pulse point, and when her teeth got a little eager, he ground against her with a harsh gasp that made her blood sing all over again.

“Clarke,” his voice was strained, and she liked it. Her hands shifted to his waist and were in the midst of undoing his belt buckle, when Bellamy stopped her. “Wait, I… shit.” His forehead dropped to hers. “Clarke… you deserve more than just a fuck against the wall.”

Though she could tell the words were genuine, she had to bite her cheek not to laugh anyways. He’d had his hands under skirt less than five minutes ago and now he wanted to stop? No fucking way was she letting him get away with that.

“Bellamy,” she said sternly, waiting for his eyes to meet hers. “You told me earlier that I should go after what I want.” She tugged at his belt so that his body crashed into hers, his hands propped on the wall beside her head. “I want _you._ Right now.”

“Only right now?” He asked softly.

That made her pause. So that’s where his mind was. Clarke gazed up at him, this person she’d only met hours ago and yet already wanted to know and learn for years to come. Arriving at an easy decision, she smiled, gently brushing his mouth.

“As far as first dates go, I’d call this one a raging success,” she grinned. “That is, if you hurry up and stop stalling.”

Bellamy’s eyes widened, and then he laughed so loud it seemed to echo into every corner of the room and back into her heart. He framed her face between his hands, kissing her soundly until she was clinging to his arms.

“Whatever you say, princess,” he breathed happily.

She hummed and resumed working at his pants, and this time he helped her shove them down. Her hand immediately snuck into his briefs, firmly wrapping around his hard length. 

“ _Fuck,_ Clarke,” his hand smacked loudly against the wall. Thrilled by his reaction, she gripped him a little harder, her thumb brushing over the head.

“You’re so _big_ ,” she said, a little stupidly, but it wasn’t her fault her brain had stopped working ever since her back hit the wall.

“Thank you Captain Obvious,” Bellamy choked out. Just for that, she gave him a deliberate jerk, smirking when he moaned raggedly. Then his lips were on hers, tongue plundering her mouth as his hands pinned hers to the wall. Anxious, she squirmed in his hold, biting his lip when he refused to let go.

“Come on,” she pleaded. “Bellamy, please.”

He sighed and released her hands. “Since you asked nicely,” he said, then laughed when she slapped his backside in response. “Oh, that’s how it is? We should definitely discuss _that_ later.”

She was still giggling when he pulled back to dig around in his discarded pants for a condom. As soon as it was on, his hands shifted under her thighs, lifting her up. Her legs locked around his waist as he held her against the wall with just his weight. Feeling his thick cock nudge between her thighs, her head knocked back against the bricks again. She was definitely going to have a bump in the morning. _Totally worth it._

Then Bellamy carefully slid inside her and the rest of the world ceased to exist. “Oh _god._ ” Clarke felt him trembling with restraint where she clutched at his shoulders. So she dug her heels into his ass and urged him forward, hearing him grunt in surprise as he buried himself deep. She gave a wordless cry, her walls stretching wonderfully around him. Hands still braced under her legs, Bellamy pulled out slowly, then drove back in.

All sorts of nonsense spilled from her mouth after that, but she was helpless to stop it. The most she could do was hang on as his hips snapped into hers, sending delicious jolts of pleasure through her body each time. He mouthed at the tops of her breasts over her shirt, nudging aside fabric so he could lave at the bare skin when he realized she was chanting _more, more_ into his ear. 

“Shit, Bellamy, I’m-” She broke off in a gasp, legs squeezing his waist as he began to ram into her faster. Between the bricks scratching at her back, Bellamy’s hands digging into her thighs, and his mouth on her chest, it all became too much too soon. 

Then Bellamy lifted his head to place his lips directly at her ear. “Next time, I’m going to go slow, taste you everywhere, princess,” he promised. Clarke moaned, and with the prospect of _next time_ ringing in her ears, she fell apart. 

His breath was hoarse and uneven as he continued to thrust into her, and when she whispered, “Only if I get to return the favor,” he shuddered and pressed his face into her shoulder, coming with her name on his lips.

They remained there for a little longer, gulping in much-needed air until finally Bellamy withdrew, pressing a sloppy kiss to her cheek that made her smile dazedly. They cleaned up with no shortage of redness and laughter, especially when it took Bellamy crawling under one of the tables to finally locate her underwear. 

“Wouldn’t have figured you for a lace girl,” he said with a grin.

“I’m full of surprises,” she shot back, even while hopping into her panties much less gracefully than she’d hoped. 

Bellamy laughed and enfolded her into his arms for another long kiss that left her head spinning. “You certainly are, princess. You certainly are.”

He insisted on walking her home, even though she was convinced it was horribly out of his way. But he wouldn’t listen to any of her protests, only ushering her out the door with a hand on her back as if they always left together. And that was how Clarke found herself buying two cones of ice cream from the lone shop that was still open in the late night (morning?) hours.

“Strawberry shortcake or chocolate chip cookie dough?” She asked Bellamy.

“Guess.”

She narrowed her eyes, but it only took seconds for her to hold out the strawberry. When his eyes crinkled in what was quickly becoming her favorite new expression, she squealed delightedly. “I knew it!”

“My sister’s the chocolate-lover of the family,” he admitted.

“Smart girl. I like her already.”

Somehow it was still too soon when they reached her apartment building, and when he kissed her goodnight, she decided she might be able to get used to strawberry if she always got to taste it like this.

~~~~~~~

It was far too early when her alarm clock began its signature high chiming. Clarke groaned and threw an arm out, blindly reaching for the small blue box with the intent of throwing it far away. Instead, her hand connected with empty air where it should have been.

“Uh-uhhhh,” came an equally chipper voice.

Blearily, Clarke lifted her head to find Octavia grinning happily beside her bed, holding the clock aloft. “Hey. How’d you get in?”

“Please. I have your spare key, remember, for emergencies? And once Raven informed me she was taking you out last night, I figured this definitely counted as an emergency.” She plopped down on top of the covers, placing the alarm clock out well of Clarke’s reach. “I don’t care how hungover you are. I will drag you to this brunch however I have to,” she threatened.

Clarke only smiled and rolled to her back, stretching her sore limbs. “No dragging. I’ll get up.”

Octavia’s eyebrows flew up. “Really? That’s it? No argument, no whining, no _five more minutes?_ ”

“Hey, I’m not that bad.” 

“Yeah, right.” Her friend studied her. “Seriously though. You look… different. Happy. Really happy.” She leaned closer, her jaw dropping gleefully. “Wait a second. Is that a _hickey?_ Oh my god! Someone got _luckyyyy_ last night!” 

Clarke couldn’t have put up a poker face even if she’d wanted to. The smile on her face only widened when Octavia nearly tackled her. “Tell me everything!!”

“It’s kind of a long story…”

“Liar! It’s short and sweet, because you _got some!_ ” Her friend’s eyebrows wiggled so hard that Clarke burst into laughter. “Please tell me he was tall dark and oh-so-handsome.”

“Yes,” she sighed. “He was.”

Octavia squealed loud enough to wake the neighbors. “My hero! I want details, Griffin. But first,” she threw back the covers. “You need to get your ass up and in the shower. My brother’s meeting us at the diner in half an hour.”

“Mmkay.” Clarke sat up and stretched. “What’s his name again?” She called, but Octavia had already bounced out of the room. She laughed to herself and began to get ready.

They were still running a little late because of how long it took her to cover up said hickey, so they rushed along the sidewalks without much conversation. Both were grinning as they crossed the street, though for very different reasons. Clarke wrapped her scarf around her neck a little tighter, hoping it wouldn’t look too odd to be wearing it in the spring. At least it was light, one of those fashion things that Octavia knew more about than she did. 

Distracted by her thoughts, she nearly ran right into her friend when she stopped, looking around. “So what-”

“There he is!” Octavia shouted, breaking into a run. “Bell!”

Clarke’s head snapped around to follow her friend as she ran towards a singularly familiar figure, who swept her up into a big hug, spinning her in a circle. Even from here she could hear his warm laughter - the same rich tone that she’d become so enamored with in just one night. 

She was frozen to the spot, gawking in disbelief. Octavia finally unwound herself from him and looked around, pointing to Clarke and crooking a finger. “Hurry up, slowpoke!”

Clarke watched Bellamy’s face transform in shock as his eyes locked on hers. Incredulous, it took him mere seconds to come to the same realization she had. But when she was a few steps away, he suddenly began to smile, the surprise giving way to joy, and she found herself returning it.

“Hi,” he said wonderingly.

“Hi,” she laughed.

Octavia assessed in the situation in a single glance. _“Holy shit._ ” She grasped Clarke’s elbow. “ _This_ is Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome?” Clarke nodded sheepishly, shrugging at Bellamy’s amused look.

Octavia punched his arm next. “You loser, _this_ is the dream girl you texted me about at 3a.m.?!”

It was Clarke’s turn to grin - _dream girl, she could get used to that_ \- as he rubbed his neck in a gesture she already knew so well. He glared exactly like an annoyed older brother at Octavia, who in return didn’t care a single bit. She laughed brightly and threw her hands up, waving them in something like a cheer that only she could pull off.

“Today is a good day,” she declared to anyone who wanted to listen. “So." Her eyebrows wagged as she looked between them. "I’m going to grab us a table, give you two a second to catch up.” She sauntered inside, her fingers flying over her phone.

“The whole world’s about to know in five seconds,” Clarke murmured.

Bellamy grinned. “Can’t say I mind.” A glint stole into his eyes as they fixated on her scarf. She laughed, still stunned and more than a little giddy. 

“Octavia said you were a teacher, not a bartender," she breathed, staring up at him.

“Yeah, I’m a history teacher during the week. But I’ve been bartending part-time since college. It’s kind of relaxing. So during the summer semesters I usually pick up a couple shifts, usually weekends.” He shrugged. “The extra cash doesn’t hurt.”

“Also,” he stepped closer, making her heart thump wildly, “Now and then we get some really cute customers.”

“Aha,” she teased. “So it's all part of a plan, huh?” 

“Wish I could say yes. Except for one spectacular fail.” Bellamy raised an eyebrow. “I never got your phone number.”

Clarke blushed. “We can fix that.”

“Good.” He reached out and took her hand, their fingers winding together with ease. “Because I really wanted to take you on that second date.”

Grinning, she pulled him closer, sighing when their lips finally met. “Me too.”


End file.
